


Crank it

by forestofsecrets



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Arguing, Comedy, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Typical Ran and Myu relations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestofsecrets/pseuds/forestofsecrets
Summary: Cecil has started adapting some of Ranmaru's rock based habits.It is something that Camus will not stand for.
Relationships: Aijima Cecil/Kurosaki Ranmaru
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Crank it

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Ranmaru's Soulful Bass event in Shining Live. I adore Cecil and Ran together so this event was really cute! I don't actually ship too much in Utapri so I couldn't afford to miss this opportunity! I am a bit late due to the fact that I don't read event stories right away. It is a lot of clicking to do at once (since I wait until I unlock all 10 parts before I read it) so I often put it off until later. It's a good way to have some prisms in my back pocket too.
> 
> That being said, I still need to read Cecil and Masa's event story, the Clairvoyant one. I've been wanting to write something with a 'witchy' theme lately and that event basically gave me exactly what I wanted on a silver platter. Magic and fantasy? Yes, sign me up.
> 
> Made on 03/23/2020.

Matching Cecil with Ranmaru for the latter’s solo concert proved to be a mistake, in Camus’s opinion. Putting two equally, but separately, annoying people together only compounded the irritation. It gave him a headache, listening to the pounding rock music that permeated through the walls. Why they gave him a room right next to Ranmaru’s, he’ll never know. 

To make matters worse, his junior had picked up the habit. Spurred on by Ranmaru, mostly to irk Camus he was sure of it, Cecil had expanded his song library to include head splitting melodies. He claimed to enjoy the rock rhythms but Camus didn’t understand how anyone could enjoy that. Cecil’s wardrobe didn’t go untouched either, he added chokers and eyeliner. 

Camus could just see all of his teachings, his painstakingly thorough lessons, be completely overwritten. Rock music was a bad influence, he always said, and this was more proof. In the days following the concert, Cecil acted like a rebel instead of a prince. He rolled his eyes, ignored what Camus told him, and stayed out impossibly late. There were some days where Cecil didn’t come back for the night. Completely unfitting for someone of his position.

Refusing to let all of his hard work to go waste, Camus called Ranmaru out one day.

“Kurosaki.” It was early in the morning, earlier than usual for Ranmaru. It surprised Camus mildly to see the other man even out of bed at this time but he supposed that even Ranmaru could do it if he really tried. “We need to discuss Aijima’s recent, transformation.” There wasn’t any other way to put it as far as Camus was concerned but it sounded more awkward than he would have liked coming out of his mouth.

“Ha?” Still in his sleep wear, Ranmaru stumbled around the kitchen area. He scratched his chest lazily, pulling at the material of the old shirt. “’s too early for this.” He turned his back on Camus to reach something in a high cupboard. 

If he expected Camus to back down that easily, he was wrong. Sitting comfortably at the table sipping his morning tea, complete with a dozen sugars naturally, he watched with amusement as Ranmaru got two mugs. Clearly, he was still half asleep. “This is something that needs to be discussed now. I will not stand for you corrupting my junior.”

The coffee maker was dragged out from its place at the bottom of the pantry next, Ranmaru lugged it onto the counter. “I said, we’re not talkin’ about this.” His words slurred together somewhat, into one sleepy monotone. “’Sides, I’m not the one filling his head with how he should act.” 

Camus frowned, stirring his tea. It got bitter without warning. He added more spoonful’s of sugar, how lucky he had the foresight to bring the pot of sugar over with him to the table. A taste test proved satisfactory. “You will cease this behaviour immediately. Though it is too late for you, I may be able to salvage Aijima.” A couple more spoons of sugar, just to be on the safe side.

The coffee maker was plugged in. Ranmaru got a filter and filled it with the required amount of coffee grind. Camus inwardly huffed, instant coffee was beneath him but fit someone of Ranmaru’s stature. Once the coffee was dripping, the rocker turned to face Camus.

“He’ll do whatever he wants to and so will I.” Ranmaru jerked a thumb at his own chest, looking a bit more awake. “No one can tell me what to do. That’s what rock is all about.” It only served to remind Camus of why he had started this unfortunate conversation in the first place.

“Speaking of,” a sip of his tea, making Ranmaru wait on him was worth it, “you need to do something about that music. I can hear it through the walls.” This was an extremely civil version of what Camus really wanted to say. He would not stoop to Ranmaru’s level. “If I hear that fake nonsense again, I will personally shut it off myself.” If what he heard was correct, then the way to hell was a highway and he just shifted into first gear.

Crossing his arms, Ranmaru didn’t seem intimidated in the least. “Big talk, as always.” He leaned back against the counter, waking up a bit more. “That’s what rock is about. If you can’t feel yourself vibrating along with the music, it ain’t loud enough.” He grinned and Camus didn’t like that one bit.

“It’s utter gibberish.” Camus’s voice bottomed out, reaching its lowest baritone with a hint of frustration. “That isn’t real music.” It was something that was sure to strike a note of resentment in Ranmaru but that was exactly the reason why Camus went there. Tea always did pair well with something dry.

The reaction was instantaneous, a flicker of anger in Ranmaru’s eyes. Behind him, the coffee maker had finished its job but Ranmaru was too caught up in Camus’s provocations to notice. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and it was shocking how Ranmaru couldn’t smell it with how much his nostrils were flaring. “Yeah? And that stuff you listen to is?”

He was referring to Camus’s collection of classical music. Past symphonies and tracks made by the old masters, something Camus held in very high esteem. He wouldn’t expect someone like Ranmaru to know their worth, not when his music was about cranking it up as high as it could go. It was the very definition of overcompensating. 

“Of course it is.” Camus took another taste of is tea, it was pleasantly sweet. There was an undeniable smirk on his face and he wasn’t going to do a single thing about it. “It’s real music, not all banging and screaming. Now that we have that settled, you will turn your babble down. I don’t want Kotobuki to catch wind of it.”

That would truly be a disaster. They had just gotten Reiji out of his western phase, brought on by the photoshoot he did some months earlier with Ranmaru. Seeing as Ranmaru was the common denominator in causing problems in Camus’s life, there was no one else to blame. Camus would not stand for Reiji, as impressionable as he is, to get sucked into another phase. If the brunet found out that Ranmaru and Cecil were hosting a party in Ranmaru’s room every night, there would be no doubt that he would want to join. Reiji could find trouble sitting still and that was another headache Camus refused to deal with.

While it was fresh on his mind, Camus kept speaking. “With brings me to another matter,” the count watched Ranmaru roll his eyes and that proved where Cecil was getting it from, “must your music be so explicit?” It wasn’t just the swearing Camus was referring to but the underlying sexual nature of the music. Gasps, moans, and more were littered in the music, music Camus was being forced to listen to. “It’s perverse.” His face said it all, wrinkled nose and blank stare.

Ranmaru got a kick out of that for whatever reason, he barked out a laugh. It seemed to remind him of why he came out in the first place and he turned around to pay attention to his coffee. He poured it straight black into one of the mugs and set it aside. When he began to prepare the second mug, Camus felt an odd urge to speak up.

“That… Isn’t for me, is it?” To say it was off putting was putting it lightly. If this was the other man’s attempt at a peace offering, it didn’t sit right with him. Camus kept the distasteful look on his face as Ranmaru approached to swipe the sugar from him off the table.

“It ain’t for you so don’t get your panties in a twist.” Sugar went in the second mug, followed by milk once Ranmaru had a trip to the fridge. The two of them had been in the group long enough to know that this wasn’t how Ranmaru took his coffee. It made Camus hesitate, eyebrows coming together as he realized he was missing a piece of this puzzle and he didn’t like it.

Fortunately, the last piece he needed ending up coming right through the doorway.

It was Cecil, dressed only in a shirt much too large for his body. He had one of his hands up by his face, rubbing away the sleep. He leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. The shirt slipped off one of his shoulders, letting Camus see much too much information about the events of his prior evening.

The dark bruises covered his shoulder, leading Camus’s eyes down the rabbit hole. Bite marks and hickeys ringed his neck, darker than his skin. Cecil sniffled, still visibly sleepy. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that Camus was staring at him, his eyes were instead on Ranmaru.

“Where’s the coffee?” His accent was heavier when he wasn’t fully awake. He shuffled into the kitchen; arms outstretched searching for the beverage. Ranmaru placed the mug in his hands a second later and it made Cecil content, standing there drinking his coffee while Ranmaru slipped a hand around his waist.

It was a sight that made Camus’s brain nearly short circuit. What was going on in front of him? His mouth opened then closed, sitting up straighter as if that would help him understand it.

“Take the mug and g’back to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.” With a hand to ruffle his dark hair, Ranmaru sent Cecil trudging along back out of the kitchen with slow steps. The rocker picked up his own mug of coffee, the one he had set aside, and turned to face Camus once more. Eyebrows up, he dared Camus to say anything without saying a single word.

“Kurosaki. What was that?” Voice flat, each word was said lowly. If what he thought happened had really happened then his headache was going to get exponentially worse. 

Ranmaru was silently gloating, Camus could tell by the way he took a long drink of his coffee before answering him. “Kid’s passionate. Rock really opened up his soul.” Another lagging drink from the mug nearly had Camus fuming. “All I did was help his body get used to it too. Didn’t think you’d hear us through all the music though. Good to know.” That served as his only form of farewell as Ranmaru followed Cecil’s invisible footsteps out of the kitchen.

Camus shook his head at the empty room, lips turning into a grimace. It was too early to deal with this. No, no, absolutely not. He would drink his tea, practice his cello, resume his idol duties, and then maybe, and that was a big maybe, he would dare to consider what Ranmaru had said. Picking up his tea once more, he brought it up to his mouth.

His tea was cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Myu may want to rethink asking Ran to turn his music down. 
> 
> Ran definitely won this round.


End file.
